Blueberry Pies and Raspberry Wine
by LonelyWinterRose
Summary: After Thorin and Company's brief visit in Rivendell, Lindir takes time to find some comfort in some raspberry wine and a midnight snack of blueberry pie as he tries to rid himself of the memory of the Company's stay. Oh, and Lord Elrond comes into the picture somewhere too being the good friend to Lindir that he is. Rated T for drinking themes and some mild language. My 1st OneShot


Hey everyone! Was anyone else frustrated that the site was shut down yesterday? I know I was. Of course only I would come up with over ten ideas for new stories just when I couldn't go forward with posting them. I couldn't update any of my stories and lost half of a chapter I was working on for _"Eilwyn Fire-Bane"_. I had just gotten to the last paragraph of the chapter and then _POOF_ no more chapter. Anyway I am working on rewriting it so it should be up soon.

Anyway, (again), this is one of the idea's I came up with last night about 3 am. I _was_ going to work for the second chapter of _"It's Always The Quiet One's"_ but I couldn't log in to edit the chapter. Thankfully they have got it all fixed so _YAY_! Also I am working on a Nori story - fan-fic - , (Yes I am aware that rhymed), its a first but he's a little left out and forgotten I just couldn't let that happen now could I?

Anyway, (again again lol), here's the story. Its my first OneShot so be nice please? Let me know what you think leave a review or two.

DISCLAIMER : I DO NOT OWN THE HOBBIT OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS OR ORIGINAL STORY LINE ALL THE CREDIT FOR ITS WONDERFUL GOODNESS GOES TO THE AMAZING J.R.R. TOLKIEN MAY HE REST SAFELY ALONGSIDE THE VALOR.

Ever at you service,

LonelyWinterRose

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BLUEBERRY PIES AND RASPBERRY WINE

After Thorin and Company's brief visit in Rivendell, Lindir takes time to find some comfort in some wine and a midnight snack as he tries to rid himself of the whole of the memory of their stay. Oh and Lord Elrond comes into the picture somewhere too.

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 **Blueberry Pies and Raspberry Wine**

 _'Dwarves!'_ Lindir thinks with a curse and a unnoticeable - except to him - stomp in his step as he makes his way towards Rivendell's kitchens.

He had just received news that the Company of Dwarves and the Hobbit that Gandalf had dragged into Rivendell with him three days ago had snuck off disappearing like thieves in the night while the White Council was meeting to discuss their not so secret Quest to reclaim Erebor from the Dragon Smaug.

Really there were only so many logical reasons a group of Dwarves led by Thorin Oakenshield would be passing their way with an unreadable - to them - map that only Lord Elrond could read since it was in ancient Dwarvish and its texts hidden in moon runes.

That Gandalf was tagging along with them so he could offer them some of his one of a kind _"trustworthy through experience advice and wise council"_ on their Quest that was according to the Wizard himself only _"mainly academic"._ That merely only put forth even more likely reasons those Dwarves were heading over the Misty Mountains.

And he knew for sure the moment they said it that they were not just traveling to the Ironhill's to visit their kin.

He hasn't lived as long as he has without learning to tell when someone is telling a lie in place of speaking the truth. He had had enough practice to master in that field when his Lord Elrond's twin son's Elladan and Elrohir were young elfling's and he had been charged with caring for them, a job that he found no end to be embarrassing and tiring to the extreme. He had been sure that he would have become the first elf to get gray hair that was under the age of four thousand years of age.

Lindir honestly didn't see why everyone was making such a big fuss over the Dwarves leaving Rivendell he for one had wanted them gone mere hours after they arrived.

Did they not have any modesty? Truly, who bathes out in the open for the whole world to see in a sacred fountain when he had personally seen to it that they each had their own separate baths prepared for them? They were rude at dinner making a complete episode out of throwing perfectly good food everywhere and nearly plastering him with it in the process several times.

And don't even get him started on their taste of music! "Hey diddle diddle"? Why were they singing - butchering it really - a children's nursery song at dinner? And who's grand idea was it to twist the nursery song into a drinking song anyway? Absolutely absurd!

Their own musicians had put together their own accompaniment for the evenings dinner entertainment and he also knew for a fact that they had been practicing it for nearly a week making sure it was perfectly harmonized and suited to his Lord Elrond's specific musical tastes.

Disrespectful. Rude. Brash. Infuriating. _Dwarves!_

He could go a whole life time and then some without having to relive such an experience again.

If he saw another dwarf - just one more - it would be much much too soon!

If he hadn't have know that his record was completely clean - save maybe a few pranks he took part in when he was an elfling - he would have thought that the Valor had it in for him and were looking to return the favor of some past misdeed and saddled him with those blasted Dwarves in petty revenge.

The point was, is, that he absolutely _loathes_ Dwarves and their severe lack of manners and property as well as their seeming permanently lost lack of better judgment when it comes to being gracious to their hosts.

Not only were they extremely hairy - especially compared to Elves who were nearly hairless all over - but they some how managed to plug every drain of every wash basin and tub they did use when they completely dirtied the fountains once crystalline clean water.

He vehemently refused to pull out all that hair. He tried the first one and quickly lost the contents of his stomachs.

He was actually all too content to let it all sit there until some young Elf got into trouble over some thing or another and then have them sent to clean it all up as punishment.

No doubt by then the very " _hairy_ situation" would worsen to the farthest extreme but he wasn't going to rush it for as far as he was concerned the clogging of hairs from Dwarves he hadn't even wanted to be placed under his few was _NOT_ his problem then, now or preferably _ever_.

Even now as he walks into the kitchens and starts rooting around for a plate of his favorite blueberry pie and a bottle of his favorite raspberry wine the knots of wet slimy hair are still lodged in the drains.

Just the thought of it is enough to make him nearly lose this appetite. But he pushes the nauseous feeling down after all he above everyone else in Middle Earth deserves such fruity deliciousness to comfort him in congratulations for putting up with thirteen Dwarves, a Hobbit and a meddlesome Wizard for as long as he had and then gone on living to tell the tale which he wants all too much to forget.

If he thought that banging his head against the wall would help him forget the last couple days and if he didn't know that it could cause him serious injury he would have gone ahead and done it the after first hour he had been tasked to seeing to their care. But alas, he was rather fond of his current head shape and skin color and of course if he put a dent in one of the walls he would be the one having to patch it and clean it up.

He has already had to deal with too many messes already, all of which had been caused by those accursed _Dwarves_ they had absolutely _no_ respect for anything their hosts had gifted them to use.

They completely and utterly destroyed several antique furniture's some as old as the First Age which they then used for fire wood. Fire wood! Of all the things Dwarves would do they just had to dismantle in the most destructive way possible nearly all the furniture in the chambers he had placed them in.

And then they didn't even sleep in the beds. No, they shunned them and forwent the beds and instead camped out on a balcony where they stayed up until the early morning hours making such a ruckus that the Elven residences on the farthest side of Rivendell could hear them.

And that Eru awful " _crack!_ " that had echoed through the night air follow by laughter, he had just _known_ that yet _another_ rare and precious to their history piece of furniture had been broken and smashed into smithereens.

Valor save him from seeing _any_ more _Dwarves_ for the rest of his however long life!

Finally finding his sought after snack of blueberry pie and soon after one of the last of his own stash of aged raspberry wine, Lindir flops as ungracefully as he can manage - he doesn't feel much like looking like a proper suave walking Elf right now - onto a chair sitting next to the center food prepping table and quickly pulls the cork of the wine bottle out with his teeth spitting it out over his shoulder and tilts the bottle and his head back as he takes three long droughts of the slightly tart liquor.

Relaxing as a warm glows starts to grow in his chest he lowers the bottle to the table and picks up his fork shoving it passive aggressively into the center of the pie and then lifting an overly large bite into his mouth savoring the flavor of fresh mouth waveringly sweet tasting blueberries with relish.

It's been much too long since he last had reason to indulge in blueberry pie since he usually tried to avoid eating his favorite desert lest he never stop at eating just one pie.

To him it was as addicting to him as smoking pipe weed is to others. The smell of a freshly baked blueberry pie appealed to him much more that the pungent smoky woodsy smell of most common pipe weeds.

He had personally only smoked pipe weed twice both times on a request of his Lord Elrond to try an _"losses up"_ as he said. Apparently he thought he was _"too serious and prissy",_ again those were his words.

It had been slightly insulting so he had given in and had then been left with the rather distasteful lingering taste of said very bitter and much too earthy pipe weed.

He couldn't see how anyone would willing put anything in their mouths that would linger unpleasantly for days after wards. But he knew that not everyone shared the same cup of tea so to speak.

For example, most people found his preferred raspberry wine much too tart to be any sort of appetizing even though he favored it over any other drink even if he would end up with an extremely horrible hang over the next morning - and it wasn't easy for an Elf to achieve a great enough level of inebriation for them to get a hang over the next day - for just drinking one small glass of it let alone the whole battle as he was planning to do tonight would surely cause such a thing to occur in the morning.

The thought of just how bad a head ache he would have in the morning almost made him rethink his path and set course of getting properly intoxicated but then he remembers the mentally scarring vision of seeing thirteen nude and as naked as the day they were born unbelievably and undesirably hairy Dwarves bathing and having water battle in their sacred fountains came to the forefront if his mind and he quickly raised the bottle to his lips and took two more deep swallows hoping that if he drank enough his mind would cloud over and banish that mental image his mind was so thoughtful to remind him of.

Seeing a naked Dwarf will drive any Man or Elf to drink and he could say with startling clear certainty that he never _EVER_ wished to see such a sight ever again he was sure he would be having nightmares over that unpleasant scene for many years.

He had been tempted to just turn tail and flee at the time and would have too if his Lord Elrond hadn't been with him. He was much to set in being dignified in his presence to take such an act to heart no matter how much he wanted to.

He was actually rather tempted to remove his own eyes to see if that would rid his mind of the images but he was rather fond of his eyes just as much as his head and skin and so did not wish to ruin any of them.

It must be the wine talking that or he really had gone mad from just three days of having to watch over the Dwarves.

Yes, if he ever saw another dwarf it would be much too soon and his stash of raspberry wine and the whole of Rivendell's stock of blueberries would not survive his late night visits to the kitchens. Which would be a shame for the lack of his two comfort edibles is truly his worst nightmare or rather it was until he saw unclad mother-naked Dwarves in their full glory dressed only in their birthday suits.

Great, now he was think about those accursed Dwarves again. 'Well that only calls for another swig of wine' he thinks as this time he down six large gulps smiling slightly at the fuzzy buzzing feeling taking over his head starting to vanish the memories of the past few days from his head.

Yes, wine is definitely what the healer called for; wine and pie the snack of ultimate champions.

Setting the bottle back down on the table Lindir looked down at his pie and frowned at the now much larger hole in the middle of his pie. Was someone else eating his pie? Or had he been eating it without knowing while he was thinking?

Shrugging his shoulders deciding that in his growing drunken state he did really not care who ate his pie he would deprive anyone - besides maybe an Orc or any of those Dwarves - of eating such a scrumptious delicious pie he wasn't that evil he stabbed his fork back into the pie and took another large bit so big that he had trouble chewing it though he found that he also didn't care that some of it fell from his mouth and onto one of his best maroon robes unlike as he normally would have.

He knew he was prickly when it came to caring for his clothes at times just had his Lord Elrond, his son's and even his daughter have pointed out in the past but the wine was relaxing both his mind and body enough for him not to care one with weather or not he would be able to get the dark blue purple stain out of the cloth in the morning.

He also for the feeling that he would give a single damn if Elladan and Elrohir came into the kitchens right now and pranked him in his drunk state. They have before, many times since when he was this drunk he had a hard time of it to retaliate or give chase to them other than falling straight onto his face and passing out from the dizziness of trying to stand upright so suddenly.

All too soon - much much too soon - only the crust that clung to the sides of the pie pan remained - the only part of his favorite pie he refused to eat claiming it too crisp and hard - and only a few more good mouthfuls of delicious raspberry wine were left of his snack leaving him contently forgetful to the all of the events of the last couple days.

Having succeeded in his quest to become properly legless, off his face, drunk under the table, dead till next Wednesday, three sheets to the wind, unable to stand upright, and just plain _"Drunk"_ Lindir sat there in the kitchen silently head lolling bonelessly to the either side and his arms numb as he slowly brought the bottle to his lips and poured the rest of the wine down his throat leaving him satisfactory numb and giddily flushed with drunkenness.

With no small amount of difficulty he held the bottle vertically upright the opening of the wine bottle directly over his open mouth as he caught the last few drops of the wine on his tongue.

Suddenly he could hold the bottle in his unfeeling hand no more and let it fall the bottom of it clipping the corner of his left eye before falling to the floor with a loud _"clang"_ followed by the sound of it shattering into who knew how many pieces.

Clumsily raising a limp hand to his eye Lindir stared dumbly first at the starter remnants of the bottle of wine on the floor - somehow the felling of gladness took over him at the fact that there hadn't been any wine in it before it broke, it would have been a mighty great waste - and then lifting his hand away from his eye he stared as the sticky red substance gracing the palm of it pale hand.

Faintly in the back of his mind he recognizes the red liquid as his own blood but his mind is too fuzzy and slow to truly comprehend the fact from his seemingly overindulgence in wine caused the bottle to slip from his numb hand to hit him close to his eye and then fall to the floor only for it to break from the impact. That and he could feel most of his face - which was odd and strangely gratifying - so he couldn't feel the pain of the injury as he normally would have.

The noise of the glass wine bottle shattering must have alerted somebody to his presence in the kitchens because the next thing he knew there are a pair of hands on his shoulders and a blurred face was hanging - what seemed to be without a body attached to it - in front of his own a worried expression taking over the pale unfamiliar graceful features and dark brows furrowed over narrowed gray eyes.

It takes several minute for the face to come fully into focus and he is aware that the mouth of the person is moving probably asking if he is alright though he cannot hear the words over the blood rushing and the ringing in his ears but when his vision clears Lindir quickly recognizes the face of his Lord Elrond.

Feeling a dopey amused and drunkenly happy smile take over his face at seeing his friend and Lord he tries to stand up and bow to him only managing to trip over his own momentum halfway out of his seat nearly head butting his Lord Elrond as he falls forward.

Thankfully he was quickly steadied by a pair of hands from falling onto the glass shard covered floor and so smile in thanks while also trying to thank him aloud as well. "You havje mqy thapnkz zmy frienpd." Though all his words come out slurred putting testimony to just how drunk he really is making them barely even intelligible even to his own ears which were slowly clearing themselves of the mysterious ringing sound.

Looking up at his face I see an amused and indulgent smile on his lips the same smile he uses when one or rather both of his son's do something along the lines of foolhardy pranks it is also a smile that means trouble when after a especially wild pranks he tells Elladan and Elrohir of just how they could have been better and how to improve them.

Ancient and wise my slim white arse, more like his Lord Elrond is an elfling in disguise.

"Come along Lindir, I think you have had enough to drink tonight. Let's get you to your rooms and into bed. And don't worry I will have someone clean up that mess in the morning". I hear him say drawing me out of my thoughts as he slips my left arm over his shoulders and wraps his right arm around my waist as he starts leading me out of the kitchen. Or rather he is more like dragging me out, seeing as he is bearing most of my weight and I can barely keep my feet in the floor under me let alone moving them in a forward direction and walking motion.

Leaning heavily on him and making a note to apologize about my state tomorrow I let him lead me through Rivendell to my living quarters.

Again I am faintly aware of him saying something or maybe it is me this time since I _think_ I feel my mouth moving though it is rather hard to tell seeing as I can not feel half of my face and even less of the rest of my body.

I don't know how long it takes to reach my quarters though I am guessing it took longer than it normally would have seeing as I couldn't walk right -or really at all - on my own and even Elves with their greater strength would have trouble carrying dead weight that is equally the same size as they are.

But soon my Lord Elrond is propping me up again a wall which I immediately side down to land with an 'umph' on the floor my limbs splayed out and tangles making my Lord Elrond shake his head as he opens my door before coming back over to me and hauling me up resuming our previous positions as he maneuvers me into be rooms and to my bed which he has to lift me bodily into myself having gone limp with absolutely no feeling, other than my mouth still moving, in my body.

I don't bother to try to climb under the covers as I can't move anyway and my Lord Elrond just shakes his head in amusement at my prone nearly unconscious form mumbling something about _'drunken stewards and how irritable they are the day after they indulge in one of the strongest wines in Middle Earth'_.

I just smile wistfully at him my eyes closing tiredly as I think about how lovely my blueberry pie and raspberry wine had been and when I should next have some which I hoped fervently was soon and just how much I want some more of both right now even if I knew that I couldn't lift either a fork to feed myself more of said pie or lift another bottle of wine.

Just as he is about to fall asleep I hear my Lord Elrond say with laughter coating every syllable most likely replying to whatever I had unintelligibly said, "Not to worry Lindir, it is unlikely that those particular Dwarves will return so rest assured that you are safe from witnessing any of their hairy bare unclothed physique's ever again. Though I cannot say if you will not ever see another Dwarf again. The lives of us Eldar are long so you never know. But I can promise that I will not rest any more in your charge, if any do chance a visit to Rivendell that is. Also you have my utmost sympathies on your well being and any illnesses you may contract to experience in the morning. Or afternoon, when ever you see fit to crawl out from a hole you will surely seek shelter in tomorrow."

Then Lindir knows no more, drifting into the deep sleep a person can only reach and achieve after a night of heavy drinking, the soft click of my door shutting signaling my descent into thankfully dreamless slumber.

My last thought is that Dwarves and raspberry wine must both certainly be the curse of my existence even if I love the later and with all certainly _loath_ the former.

 **END**

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So what did you think? Like it? Love? Hate it?

Let me know in a review.

Any advice and/or you know letting me know if you like it would be awesome and very welcome. :)

Every at your service,

LonelyWinterRose


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